Changes
by brinke
Summary: Sequel to 'An Eye For An Eye'.   Twenty years later and Sarah is back to find answers. Who is James Keats? How did he become the Devil? Will the answers to her questions destroy Gene Hunt or finally reunite him with everything he loved and lost?
1. Prologue

When she awoke the pain was gone.

She briefly wondered if she would get some residual feelings, in the same way her head had throbbed before, but she doubted it. She was definitely dead this time. There was no body being tended to in a hospital ward; no relatives waiting and worrying. She recalled the brief flash of pain as the bullet ripped apart her insides. Then nothing. Death.

The thought held no fear. She had no particular regrets. She had entered the Police force later than many, worked her way up the ranks to DI and had loved every second of it. She no longer blanched at corpses, or vomited on police cars. She had DCI Gene Hunt to thank for that.

She could no longer listen to 'Careless Whisper' either. She had DCI Jim Keats to thank for that.

She pushed him out of her mind as quickly as he had entered. She couldn't bear to think of him just yet and anyway, he would find her soon enough. He told her that he would be waiting and she had a feeling that Jim Keats was a man of his word. Man…Devil...whatever in hell he was. She only hoped that Gene Hunt was a man of his word too.

She opened her eyes. The bedroom was familiar, but different. She quickly realised it was the same room she had occupied twenty years before, only slightly more modern – early 2000s maybe? How did time work here, anyway? She had been gone twenty years, which should make this 2010. She decided to work on that assumption for the time being.

She rose from the bed and walked into the bathroom. At the sight of the shower she paused, her senses momentarily overwhelmed with the remembrance of her and James under the stream of water; flashes of his face before her, his lips on hers, his fingers dragging over her flesh. She shook her head to clear it. She needed a further few moments of peace before facing the insanity of Fenchurch East.

She showered quickly and dressed in black trousers and a white vest. She shrugged on a jacket, and was unsurprised when she placed her hand in her pocket to find a Fenchurch East warrant card. DI Sarah Jenkins. Of course.

She took a little extra time over her hair and her make-up, cursing herself even as she did so, since she knew she was doing it because she was going to see him again. Not that he had ever really left her.

She decided to walk. It was a beautiful day, no wrath of God storms this time, and she just wanted to take in this new old world. It was all so incredibly real; the breeze rustling the leaves, the chatter of passing schoolchildren, even the hum of the traffic, punctuated by the odd siren. It was like stepping into a time warp and going back twenty years to the London she knew when she was twenty five. Somehow it was familiar, comfortable.

She remembered everything she had read in Sam Tyler's file and how he had described this world. He was spot on. If she was honest, her main drive to get into CID in the first place was so she could gain access to the records of all those people she had heard about, the people in Gene's world. She had read all their files; Alex Drake, Ray Carling, Chris Skelton, Sharon Granger, Annie Cartwright, Sam Tyler and even Gene Hunt himself.

When there were no more files to find she had read the file of James Keats. But something didn't add up. Something didn't make sense. At that point she knew beyond all doubt that when she died she would end up back here. But not to sort herself out; she had long since resigned herself to her own fate. But before she could give herself over to him, she needed to find out how James Keats, the man, had become DCI Jim Keats, the monster.

And to do that she would have to go back to where it all began.


	2. Chapter 1

By the time she had climbed the stairs of the police station her heart was in her mouth. She approached the double doors to CID with her pulse hammering in her ears. This was it. She paused, smoothed down her clothes and hair, placed her hand on the door and pushed.

Her eyes sought Gene immediately, and she was relieved to see him already rising from his chair to meet her. Her eyes flicked to the figure lurking outside Hunt's office. Keats. She decided to ignore him, even though all her instincts begged otherwise. She noted the two men exchange snarled words as Gene passed; _nothing changes_, she thought. They even looked more or less exactly the same as before; clothes a little more modern maybe, but essentially nothing had changed. Even the office still resembled how it had looked in 1990, although there was now a computer on every desk.

"Lady Muck, I'm pleased you've decided to grace us with your presence. Again," Gene bellowed up the office. The assorted detectives glanced up from their screens and scrutinised her. She was sure she recognised some of them from her time here before.

"That's DI Lady Muck, thank you," she corrected him.

"I've just seen your file, very impressive for a secretary," he folded his arms. "I hope you still make tea."

"Perhaps you should make me a cup," she grinned. "Remind me how."

"Cheeky bloody mare. My office, now!" Gene turned and began stomping back to his desk. "Plonk. Tea, six sugars and whatever hoity toity pants here wants." He shoulder barged Keats as he passed, for good measure.

"Just a white tea would be lovely, thank you," Sarah smiled at the beleaguered female PC.

She approached the office, aware of Keats' eyes boring into her. He hadn't moved, he hadn't uttered a word since her arrival, but now he stepped in front of her, blocking her path. She looked into his eyes, once again seeing up close the fire that burned there. She held his gaze evenly, without a trace of emotion or fear.

"Welcome back, Sarah," Keats breathed.

"Oi, pencil neck!" Gene called from his desk. "Stop bothering my female staff or I'll have you on a charge of sexual harassment."

The merest flicker of a self-satisfied smile crossed Keats' face, before he stepped aside to allow Sarah to pass. She walked straight into Gene's office and closed the door gently behind her. She exhaled heavily and leaned back against the frame, grateful that Gene had already closed the blinds. Her heart raced as though it might try to escape from her ribs.

"Sit here, drink this and don't let him get to you," Gene instructed, indicating a tumbler of whisky on the desk before him.

"Thanks, DCI Hunt", she dropped heavily into the chair opposite his. She grabbed the whisky and knocked it back, feeling it burn reassuringly in her chest.

"I prefer Guv," he refilled her glass and poured a healthy slug for himself.

"Thanks, Guv." She pressed the cool glass to her forehead.

"It's never pretty, dealing with an ex," he muttered.

"Particularly not one who almost destroyed the world."

"I dunno, you should see the ex-Mrs Hunt," Gene pouted. "She could give old four eyes a run for his money."

Sarah laughed and sipped her whisky.

"So you remember it all, then?" Gene asked quietly.

"Yes," she said. "You?"

He pulled a book out of his drawer and tossed it across the desk to her. "I started making notes, after you left. I wanted to remember…stuff…" he drifted off.

She thumbed through the book. Right at the beginning there were a few lines about her, not all exactly complimentary she noted, smiling at Gene's take on her relationship with Keats. Then there were some other notes about a DI Simpson and so on, cataloguing endless coppers who had passed through Gene's care. She saw that, throughout the book, there were references to Alex, Sam, Chris and Ray. Obviously remembrances noted as time passed. She closed the book quietly and laid it on the desk.

"I think that was a good idea," she smiled. "I, however, did my best to forget. Career, drink, blokes…you name it."

Gene sized her up. "What happened to you?"

"Shotgun to the guts," she shook her head. "Botched hostage negotiation at a bank job. Not my finest hour. Not quite as dramatic as your bullet to the skull, mind you."

Gene raised his eyebrows. "You've done your research."

Sarah looked him in the eye. "I've read all the files. You, Alex, Sam, everyone."

"Keats?"

She made a split second decision. "No," she lied, "I couldn't locate it."

Gene sat back and sipped his whisky. He'd been a copper long enough to know when someone was lying to him. He didn't like it. And he especially didn't like being kept in the dark by a member of his own team. But this was something else. The normal rules didn't apply this time. It didn't mean he had to like it, but he could let it go. For now.

"You be careful. That bastard has been hanging around this department like a bad smell for this past twenty odd years," Gene scowled. "I've seen some good coppers fall prey to that toerag."

"I will, I promise." She sat up. "So, what are we working on?"

"Arsonist. Some bugger's been going around setting fires. Three in the last month."

"You think it's all the work of the same man?"

"Man? You got a crystal ball somewhere I should know about, Mystic Meg?"

"Eighty eight percent of all serial arsonists are male, so it's a pretty good chance," Sarah argued. "But alright, do you think it's all the work of the same perpetrator?"

"All been set using firebombs. Petrol, milk bottle and a lit rag kind of thing."

"Crude, but effective. Also means the arsonist is close by when it goes up. They like to watch."

"Christ, you're worse than Bolly!"

"And the targets?"

"A school, a GP surgery and a church. A community minded firebug. We're sorting a list of people who have links with all three premises, but that's half the bleedin' town."

"I'll take a look at the files, get up to speed," Sarah rose and crossed to the door.

"You do that, Lady Muck. But you remember what I told you," Gene's face darkened. "You embarrassed Keats last time you were here. He's got a long memory and he holds a grudge."

"I'll bear it in mind, thanks Guv," Sarah opened the door and made her way to an empty desk.

"And where's my ruddy tea?" Gene hollered in her wake.


	3. Chapter 2

Sarah spent the bulk of her first day glued to her desk, reading the reports from the first three arson cases. It felt like a needle in a haystack. That was the thing with organised criminals, psychopaths and the like; there was usually a modus operandi, some method, something to tie the crimes together. But, other than a bottle or two and a few pints of petrol, this one had nothing.

She sighed, closed the last file and rubbed her eyes. Her mobile phone vibrated with a text from Gene; G_et your bony arse to Luigi's now. Don't make me come back there! _She smiled as she pulled herself from her seat and wandered over to the filing cabinet, stowing the file away. A light caught her eye. She stared at the door to Keats' office; as always, an eerie orange glow played around the frame. She walked over, breathing deeply, willing her heart to slow down. Now or never. She pushed the door open.

Keats sat at his desk, watching her over his glasses. "DCI Jenkins, I've been expecting you. Please, take a seat."

"I'd rather stand, thanks."

"We're playing games, are we?" A smirk settled across his face as he sat back. "Very well."

"What do you want?"

Keats' eyes widened with innocence. "You came to see me. Shouldn't I be asking you that very same question?"

"Come off it," Sarah walked towards him. "You know precisely what I mean. The dreams…nightmares. All these years."

Keats smiled, beatifically.

"You couldn't just leave me alone, could you?" Sarah stalked around his desk and pulled his chair round to face her. She brought her face inches from his, close enough for him to see the anger swirling in her eyes. "Couldn't you find someone else to torment?"

"Oh, but I did," he whispered, his breath mingling with hers. "You don't think there have been others? Little secretaries. Flirtatious looks across the office. Perfumed hair, short skirts and oh so soft skin. Little slips of lace that tore easily under my fingers. Willing mouths, lipstick smeared across their painted faces. You think you were the only one? You just gave me a taste for it…."

She heard the slap before she realised she had done it. Her hand throbbed with the impact. Keats' head had snapped sharply to the right; an angry red handprint already spreading rapidly across his pale cheek. Suddenly he was up on his feet, and like a flash he had her pinned against the filing cabinets, his hands encircling her wrists, his whole body pressed against hers.

"If you had nightmares, I didn't put them there," he hissed. "If you had dreams about me, that was all you. Ask yourself, why are you here? Are you back for Gene Hunt," his voice dripped with utter hatred as he spoke Gene's name, "or are you back for me?"

Sarah looked deep into his eyes. "I came back for you, James," she said truthfully.

Keats smiled. He released her wrists, running one hand up her arm to rest his fingers on her throat. "Good girl."

His lips felt cool when he pressed them against hers. She closed her eyes and savoured the taste of him, allowing her body this one moment of satisfaction that it craved. Whatever he had done to her all those years before had never been undone. However he had gotten inside her head twenty years ago, he never left. The bond had been severed, but the ties remained. He had warned her, his words etched into her brain; "_every single part of you will ache for me from this day onwards for the rest of your life." _And he had been right. That was why she had never been able to form a lasting relationship. That was why the stab of jealousy when she thought of him with other women had made her lash out without thought. And that was why she had come back.

Reluctantly she pulled her lips from his. "I read your file."

He ran his mouth along her jaw down her neck. "Shhh," he nibbled the flesh at her collarbone. "Let's go back to yours tonight. I'll transfer you downstairs in the morning and we'll discuss it there."

With effort, she pushed him away. "You don't understand. I read your file. PC James Keats."

She saw him freeze. Something flickered across his face that took her breath away for a moment, but it was gone as quickly as it arrived.

"Playing hard to get? Never was your strong point," he sneered.

"I came back for PC James Keats. Remember him?"

Keats turned on his heel and walked to his desk, which he began tidying, briskly. "You'll keep."

"What happened to you, James?" She pressed.

"Nothing happened to me," he swept his arm across his desk, sending files, pens and pencils in all directions. "This is who I am. THIS IS WHO I AM!" He stalked to the door, grabbing his coat. "Stop thinking you're special, Sarah. You're just another little whore I can have any time I feel like it." He wrenched open the door and stormed out.

Sarah stood and listened to the sound of his retreating footsteps, until she heard him go through the far door to the staircase and descend out of earshot. She smiled and looked around at the mess. His words should have cut her to the core, and they would have done, if it wasn't for one thing. When she said his name, she had seen something in his eyes. For one brief second, she had seen hope there.

* * *

><p>When DCI Jim Keats arrived in his office the next morning he found it immaculate. His pens and pencils were back on the desk, ordered exactly as he preferred. His files were in alphabetical order. Even his stapler had been refilled. He sat at his desk blankly, his mind whirring. The whole Sarah Jenkins fiasco had been a bad days' work. An experiment that had got wildly out of hand. A liability. Sloppy. Most unlike him. Jim Keats, having carefully and thoroughly eradicated all traces of humanity from his soul, actually going out of his way to seek a weak, vertiginous woman and creating some kind of psychic bond with her? It was ludicrous. A moment of madness caused by pride and lust; granted, usually two of his more favoured sins, but they had led him far wrong on that occasion. And the past twenty years had seen him pay for his momentary weakness. Nightmares. He laughed. <em>Can you imagine the Devil having nightmares?<em> He shook his head, but he couldn't shake the strange feeling inside. He always felt odd afterwards, after the times she would visit him in his dreams. He would have those emotions, alien yet familiar, a reminder of everything he had put behind him all those years ago. They would linger for days. He told himself it was the price he had to pay for making such a stupid error of judgement.

But here she was. Here. Now. Dangerous.

And she called him PC James Keats.

And she tidied his desk.

And he realised he was smiling.

And the Devil hated himself for it.


	4. Chapter 3

"So, who are we speaking to and why?" Gene swung the Audi around a corner, barely missing two cyclists on Boris Bikes.

"Jesus Christ," Sarah swore, gripping the door handle. "I know we're already dead, but I'd like to get there in one piece."

"Who's dead?" Gene put more weight on the accelerator, throwing them back in their seats.

Sarah had noted that, in the days since her arrival, Gene had been very clear on where he stood on the whole 'afterlife' situation. They were alive. He was alive. Have a whisky. The topic is not for debate. End of discussion. Where's my cup of tea, woman?She could see her presence disturbed him. _It must be strange, _she mused, trying to ignore the old woman who had just dived out of the path of Gene's speeding vehicle, _having someone around who knows why they're here. _ To be accurate, Sarah actually knew more about why she was there than Gene did. He obviously still expected the usual; she would hang around for whatever length of time, and eventually he would help her along to wherever he helped people along to. A nice idea, but it was never going to happen. Not this time.

"Just some interesting files I pulled up on the arson case," Sarah explained. "A few characters with prior. One or two with mental illness."

"Great, a whole morning talking to scumbags and nutters. " Gene brought the car to a screaming halt, halfway in a parking space. "Couldn't we have called them into the station?"

"They're not official suspects, just persons of interest," Sarah unclipped her seatbelt and began to get out of the car. "Let's go softly, softly on this."

"I don't do 'softly, softly'," Gene stepped out of the car. "Right, who's first on the list?" An approaching Toyota Prius caught his attention. "Oh joy."

"What?" Sarah asked.

"See for yerself."

The Prius executed a textbook parallel park and its engine died. The door opened and a figure in shiny black shoes, a grey suit, long grey coat and glasses appeared.

"DCI Keats, to what do we owe this great and almighty honour?" Gene spat.

"DCI Hunt. No need for ceremony. I'm just along as an observer," Keats smiled, tapping the clipboard he held. "See how your new DI is coming along."

"You don't normally take such a personal interest in my new recruits," Gene strained to look at the clipboard, which Keats moved protectively to his chest.

"Well DI Jenkins is a special case," Keats moved closer to Sarah, leading Gene to instinctively step between them. "We have her earmarked for great things when she transfers to D&C. Great…things."

"My DI is not up for transfer."

"Yet."

"For Christ's sake!" Sarah picked up her files and stalked off in the direction of their first house call, leaving Keats and Gene to trail in her wake.

The morning was not entirely productive. Of the eight people they had down on the list to talk to, four had apparently watertight alibis, one appeared to think he was living on the moon and two weren't home. Keats was making tsking noises with each blank they drew, and Sarah was worried that Gene was about to attempt to physically insert the clipboard into a quite personal area of Keats' anatomy.

"Okay, last stop," they paused outside a car repairs workshop. Sarah looked at her notes. "Ross Graham, thirty two years old, prior conviction for arson as a minor, set fire to his father's car aged fifteen."

"One way to get daddy's attention," Gene muttered.

"Eighteen months at a young offenders' institution. Clean record ever since," Sarah continued. "He's a long shot."

"Access to plenty of petrol, and a fondness for combustion," Gene started towards the door. "Looks like we have a number one suspect."

"Great policing there, Gene," Keats murmured. "Looks like you've got this case all wrapped up."

Sarah shot him a warning look. "Do you really have to antagonise each other all day?"

"Yes," Keats smiled. "After you."

Sarah rolled her eyes and stepped into the garage, followed by Keats. Gene was already at the counter speaking to a stocky man.

"So, where were you on these dates?" Gene handed him a sheet of paper.

The man took the paper and looked at the three police officers, bemused. "What's this all about?"

"We're just making routine enquiries following the recent arson attacks," Sarah reassured him.

Ross screwed up the paper and threw it to the ground. "And what? Because of one stupid thing I did seventeen years ago, you're knocking on my door?"

"Listen to me sunshine," Gene growled. "I've 'ad all morning with Miss Marple and the four eyed freak there, and my last nerve is about to break. Do not get mardarse with me."

Keats scribbled something on his clipboard and tsked. Gene picked up a heavy wrench and glared at him.

"Guv!" Sarah hissed. Gene reluctantly put the wrench down. "Mr Graham, do I have your permission to take a look around?"

"You won't find anything," Ross shrugged.

Sarah wandered to the other end of the garage, trying to avoid the dirty engine parts which littered the floor. She didn't really know what she was looking for, but there was nothing of any great note that she could see, other than a couple of tyres and some welding gear.

"Anything?" Keats strolled halfway up the workshop.

"Nothing here, sir," she replied.

"This is a complete waste of time," he turned towards Gene. "Another blank."

At that moment there was the sound of breaking glass and an object flew past Keats and landed on the floor. There was a whoomph and flames broke out, fuelled by years of spilled petrol and oil.

"Firebomb, get out!" Sarah yelled.

Ross ran for the door, meanwhile Gene spun around wildly. "Extinguisher! Where's the extinguisher?"

"There," Ross yelled. "But the canisters!"

Sarah looked over just in time to see the flames reach the welding equipment and begin to lick around the silver metal tanks.

"Get down!" Gene screamed.

Sarah stood frozen. Gene started forward, but Keats was already moving. He dived at Sarah, knocking her to the ground and covering her with his body just as the canisters exploded. Gene threw himself down as the explosion tore through the garage, ripping it down around them.

"Now! Out, out," Keats scrambled up, pulling Sarah with him and hurrying her through the smoke.

Gene clambered to his feet and followed until the three of them were slumped, coughing, on the pavement outside.

"Are you okay? Are you burned?" Keats demanded, examining Sarah.

"No, no, I'm fine," she replied, dazed. "You alright? Guv?"

"A bit crispy, but I'll survive," Gene coughed.

"I'm calling for back up," Keats pulled out his mobile as he walked a distance away.

"What the hell just happened?" Sarah whispered to Gene. "Did you see that?"

"Yes, I did," he murmured. "Jimbo isn't usually given over to heroics. What was that all about?"

"No idea, but that was weird."

Gene stared at Keats talking on the phone. He didn't know what game he was playing at, but he didn't like it. He could deal with Keats being a prick, obnoxious, supercilious, slimy, rude and all the other Keats traits he'd come to know and despise, but Keats being selfless? Something was seriously wrong with that picture.

Keats leaned heavily against the tree. He clutched the phone to his ear, but the call had ended moments ago. He simply wasn't in the mood to deal with Gene's sarcastic barbs, or even to look at Sarah and see the confusion and concern in her eyes. _What did I just do?_ It had been instinct. He'd seen the flames hit the canisters and his body just reacted; _this body, this weak human form_. _Why?_ He ran his hand through his hair. It was obvious, when he thought about it. He couldn't risk something happening to her while Gene was there. Her soul was his; his pet project. He couldn't take the chance that Gene might swoop in at the end and steal his prize from out under him. He was simply protecting his investment. If she was going to die, again, she could do it somewhere nice and private, where he could savour his victory and where no one would disturb them. He heard the distant sound of approaching sirens and straightened up; Hunt could deal with this mess. He walked towards his car, a snarl creasing his face. He needed a distraction and he knew precisely where to find one.


	5. Chapter 4

Luigi's was busy, as always. The latest owner, a great nephew of the original Luigi, was hurrying about topping up glasses and mopping up spillages. Sarah and Gene sat in the corner nearest the mural, nursing a bottle of whisky between them.

"I wish you'd let me go home and change," Sarah complained, acutely aware of her charred and oily clothes.

"Oh, hush woman. You're alive, aren't you?" Gene's sooty face creased into a grimace.

"Debatable," she muttered.

"Oi, we'll 'ave none of that this evening," Gene knocked back his whisky and poured himself another. "Well that's the mechanic in the clear."

"Back to the drawing board," Sarah sighed, suddenly tired. "There must be something we're missing."

"Unless it's the arsonist, walking around waving a can of petrol and wearing a sandwich board that says 'arrest me, I'm the arsonist', then I'm out of ideas," he admitted. "Keats is going to 'ave a field day on this tomorrow."

"Tell me about it," she agreed. "Where did he bugger off to anyway?"

"I dunno, you'd think he'd enjoy a good fire. Make him feel right at home."

They both laughed. Sarah's attention was caught by the door opening at the far side of the restaurant. A young girl that Sarah recognised from the administrative office back at Fenchurch East stepped in, followed by Keats. Sarah watched them walk to the bar. Gene followed her gaze.

"Another one?" He shook his head. "Poor cow."

"Another?" Sarah enquired, making her best attempt to sound nonchalant.

"After you left, he seemed to discover an appetite for the female admin staff," Gene explained. "D&C must be bursting at the seams with secretaries, considering the amount he's transferred in the last twenty years."

"Hasn't anyone tried to warn them?" Sarah asked, alarmed.

"Hundreds of times," Gene shrugged. "But they don't want to know, for the most part. Jimbo there can be pretty smooth, apparently. Well, it worked on you."

"Yes, it did," she said quietly.

"This bothers you," Gene observed.

"Just, those poor girls," she lied, hating the fact that, even as she spoke, the coiled serpent of jealousy was twisting in her guts.

"Good evening team," Keats wandered over, his arm firmly clamped around the young girl's waist. "Have you met Karen, from the admin department? Karen, this is DCI Hunt and DI Jenkins, from CID."

"Where did you slither off to earlier?" Gene demanded.

"You had everything in hand," Keats smiled. "I had pressing business to attend to."

Karen giggled at this. Sarah knocked back her whisky, aware of Keats' eyes on her, looking for her reaction.

"Another bottle?" Sarah got up. "Karen, James can I buy you a drink?"

"No, we're fine, thank you," Keats guided Karen to a nearby table.

Sarah hurried to the ladies bathroom and splashed water on her face. She stared at herself in the mirror. _Get a grip,_ she told herself. _Why do you even care? You know who he is and you know what he does. This is all part of his game._ Behind her the door opened and Karen stepped in. Sarah dried her face with a paper towel.

"Are you okay?" Karen walked over.

"Of course. Why?" Sarah replied, taken aback.

"James explained that the two of you broke up, and you were finding it a little hard, you know, to get over him," Karen smiled sympathetically.

Sarah turned to face Karen. "Oh, did he really?"

A few minutes later Sarah rejoined Gene.

"I thought you were getting another bottle, Lady Muck," Gene grumbled.

"They're bringing it over," Sarah smiled.

"What are you so happy about?" Gene asked.

"Just watch," she grinned.

Karen left the bathroom and walked across to Keats. She said something and picked up her coat. Keats rose and they exchanged more words. Karen hurried out the door, pulling on her coat and leaving Keats alone and looking confused.

"What did you say in there?" Gene whispered.

"I might have accidently said that Jimbo likes to keep his socks on in bed. Or that he still sleeps with his comfort blanket," Sarah beamed. "Oh, and that I was very pleased to hear that he'd visited the doctor for his little problem and that it had all cleared up. After all, it happens to all men at some time, doesn't it?"

Gene roared with laughter. Keats turned and stared at them with a murderous look on his face.

"Oh, did she have to go?" Sarah asked him, innocently. "Shame."

Keats snarled at her and stalked out.

"Was it something I said?" Sarah laughed. "Poor Jimbo. Looks like it's him and his right hand tonight."

"I'll drink to that," Gene took the newly arrived bottle and poured them both a generous glass. "But he's going to be a bundle of laughs tomorrow."

"I can handle him," she smiled.

"I 'ope so, Lady Muck," Gene sipped his drink. "Because at the moment you're doing a bloody good job of pushing every single button he's got."


	6. Chapter 5

Keats slammed the door to his office, blowing half his files off the desk. He pulled off his coat and threw it in the general direction of the coat stand. The passing of the night had done nothing to cool his ire. _How dare she? That girl! That little girl._ _Messing in things she has no business in._ That was the second soul she had personally cost him. And she had made a fool of him. Again. And what was worse she had made a fool of him in front of Hunt. _And after I saved her pathetic, miserable life…well, what's left of it. _He punched the filing cabinet, creating a satisfying dent in the smooth metal. He contemplated the damage, grinning. _Nothing compared to what I will do to them soon._

Sarah heard the clang of fist meeting metal across the CID office.

"Sounds like Jimbo is in for the day," she muttered.

Gene raised his eyebrows. They were staring at the incident board studying the map of the fires. "Well, I'm sure we can expect a visit from our friendly office four-eyes at any moment. In the meantime, we've got Mr Graham on his way in for interview."

"There must be someone he's fallen out with," Sarah looked at her notes. "Something ties this together."

The door to the main office crashed open. "DCI Hunt, DI Jenkins, the office. Now!" Keats stormed through CID into Gene's office.

"Round two," Gene whispered as they followed Keats.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" Keats demanded as soon as the door was closed.

"I dunno," Gene shrugged. "I can usually manage The Sun Junior Jumble on a Saturday. What about you, Lady Muck?"

"I can do a mean Countdown Conundrum," Sarah agreed.

"Yeah, yeah, very funny. You're a regular double act these days, aren't you?" Keats sneered. "Well, spare me the Morecambe and Wise routine. I'm not seeing any results, and this does not please me."

"Well I'm sorry about that Jimbo," Gene smiled. "How can we make it up to you? Bunch of flowers? Box of Quality Street maybe? Quick fumble behind Luigi's? Although Ms Jenkins would 'ave to take care of that one."

"You will give me progress on this matter by the end of this week, or I am taking over this investigation. That means Hunt, you're out. And Miss Jenkins," a shark-like smile split his face. "You will be transferred to my team. Under my personal supervision."

"Is that all, Jimbo? Only we've got an interview to prepare for," Gene turned to a filing cabinet and began rifling through it.

Keats walked up close to Sarah. "I'm looking forward to working with you again," he breathed, running his hand down her arm. "You are going to do your best work under me. You'll see."

"I warned you before," Gene growled. "Sexual harassment."

"She loves it, don't you Sarah?" Keats smiled.

"In your mind she does," Gene spat.

"Do you mind?" Sarah asked. "_She_ is still here, thank you."

"See you soon," Keats grinned and left the office.

"I don't like this," Gene closed the door after him and rounded on Sarah. "The two of you, the history, this little game you're playing. None of this feels right."

"Leave him to me, Guv," Sarah soothed.

"What do you know about him?" Gene demanded. "What was in his file?"

"I didn't find his file."

"Don't give me that!" Gene snapped. "I've dealt with enough lying bastards in my time to see a big fat porky pie when it comes my way. And, Lady Muck, that is a prize winning, rosette wearing whopper. And I saw the look on your face when he walked into Luigi's yesterday with that piece of skirt, and it wasn't the wellbeing of the administrative department weighing on your mind. I know the green eyed monster when I see it, and I saw it last night. Now what the hell is going on?"

Sarah regarded him. She had always had a gut feeling about Gene Hunt; she had always thought she could trust him with anything. So why was her gut telling her not to discuss PC James Keats with DCI Gene Hunt? Was it some strange loyalty to James? Or something else?

"Okay, yes, I was jealous," she admitted. "Whatever went on between James and I before…there's unfinished business. And yes, I lied to you. And I have my reasons. I'm asking you, please, to trust me on this."

"If you're wrong…"

"If I'm wrong, then it's me he's after," she pointed out. "If I'm wrong then it's my soul, my choice. Me."

A knock at the door interrupted them. The female PC poked her head in. "Mr Graham has arrived."

"Stick him in interview room one," Gene instructed and the PC withdrew. "I hope you know what you're doing, Sarah."

"James and I…"Sarah began. "It's complicated. You know that. I just…I have to do this my own way. I promise I won't do anything that puts your department in jeopardy."

"Fine," Gene muttered, reluctantly. "I'll leave him to you. But if you end up spending eternity as some weird kind of concubine to old pencil neck out there, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Understood. Now shall we?" Sarah opened the door and headed for the interview room. Gene followed as a gloomy sense of dread settled over him. He did not have a good feeling about where this one was heading. Not at all.

* * *

><p>"Why am I here?" Ross Graham was in no mood for small talk. "You think I would torch my own business?"<p>

"What's up, Graham?" Gene spat. "Bring back happy memories of times past?"

"Mr Graham," Sarah kicked Gene under the desk. "We're very sorry about your business. All we want to do is find whoever is responsible and bring them to justice, before any more incidents of this nature happen and somebody gets hurt."

"I don't know nothing," Ross protested.

"Think back," Sarah pressed. "Can you think of anyone you've argued with? Anyone you've fallen out with?"

"No, they asked me this last night," Ross rubbed his face.

"This is a waste of time," Gene grumbled.

"Any dissatisfied customers?" Sarah persisted. "Any complaints?"

"It happens, I mean, I'm a mechanic," Ross shrugged. "People aren't happy when they come in for an MOT and leave with a five hundred quid bill."

"Anything recent?"

"There was this bloke, came in for new brakes, but when I told him his front axle was knackered he kicked off," Ross remembered. "He refused to pay and drove off."

"Can you remember his name?" Sarah asked.

"Clive. Clive Young," Ross shook his head. "Local simpleton. He never was right in the head."

"He was on your suspect list," Gene stood up. "Wasn't 'ome yesterday. Let's bring 'im in."

Sarah rose. "Thank you, Mr Graham. We'll let you know if there's anything else."

Sarah followed Gene from the room. "We're going to 'ave this toerag."

"Careful Guv," Sarah warned. "He's got learning difficulties."

"He's also got previous, if I remember rightly."

"Violent disorder," Sarah mused. "No history of arson. Anyway, we'll need to inform Social Services."

"You do that, Lady Muck," Gene stalked away. "Meanwhile I'm going to make an arrest."

"Guv, just….by the book, alright?" Sarah shouted at his retreating back. "Keats is going to be all over us on this."

"Like you said," Gene called as he disappeared out the door, "he's your bother, not mine."


	7. Chapter 6

"Mr Young," Gene stared at the young man across the desk. "So you like fires and fighting, do you?"

Sarah shifted in her seat. "Guv," she hissed. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"When I want your opinion, I will request it," Gene banged his fist on the desk. "Now, Clive, what about these fires?"

"I'm not saying nothin'," Clive smirked.

"Guv," Sarah whispered. "We don't have an appropriate adult present."

"I'm an adult and this is appropriate," Gene grabbed Clive by his lapels and swung him against the wall. "Now, talk."

"What are you doing?" Sarah shrieked.

"Interrogating the suspect," Gene replied, slamming Clive back against the wall again. "We found petrol and milk bottles in your bedroom."

"What?" Sarah demanded. "You searched his house without a warrant?"

"It's 'im, I can smell it," Gene dropped Clive on the ground.

"And what if it was?" Clive grinned up at him. "You'll never prove it."

"Do you want to make a confession?" Sarah crouched down beside Clive.

"Piss off," Clive spat.

"Right you," Gene picked Clive up and threw him across the desk. "Either you talk, and we get you into a nice cushy nuthouse somewhere, or you make this difficult and I'll bounce you into the dirtiest nick with big Bobby who wants to make you 'is missus."

"No comment," Clive shook him off.

Sarah took Gene's arm. "Guv, let's get him back to the cells. Time to cool down. Both of you."

Sarah took Gene to Luigi's for a long lunch which turned out to be more liquid than lunch, at least for Gene. When they got back, the office was buzzing with action.

"What's going on?" Gene asked.

"Another fire," the WPC answered. "I've been trying to raise you."

"Yes, tsk tsk," Keats strolled down the office. "Disappearing while on duty? I had to attend the scene in your place." He walked up close to Gene and sniffed. "Alcohol, what a surprise." He wandered over to perch on the edge of a nearby desk, watching with an expression of amusement on his features.

"Where was it?" Sarah asked.

"Ross Graham's home," the WPC replied.

"Guv," Sarah whispered so Keats couldn't hear. "Have we got the wrong man banged up?"

"Unfortunately, Mr Graham was fatally injured," the WPC explained.

"Oh Christ," Gene leaned on a desk.

"Well, we know it can't be Clive Young," Sarah sighed. "Copycat?"

"Mr Young was released two hours ago," the WPC informed them.

Gene spun around. "What? On whose authority?"

"Mine," Keats smiled, straightening up. "No appropriate adult? A search without a warrant? Police brutality? We had a complaint."

"Guv," the WPC interrupted. "You won't like this, but we did some checks. Clive Young had recently had arguments with someone at all three of the previous fire locations."

"Jesus Christ! You let the prime suspect go?" Gene demanded.

"Yes," Keats regarded him. "A result of your sloppy police work, and now someone is dead because of it."

"Someone died because you released Clive Young!" Sarah rounded on him. "You let him go without even speaking to us. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Nice turn of phrase." Keats snickered. "It's alright. I was the commanding officer at the scene. I cradled Mr Graham as he died. He's in a better place now."

"You bastard," she hissed.

"What's that, Miss Jenkins?" He smiled.

Sarah stared at him. Anger coiled its way through her guts and up into her chest. She felt her throat tighten and start to burn.

"Bastard!"

Before anyone could react, she was on him. She punched him smartly in the nose and he reeled backwards, crying out in surprise as a fountain of blood sprung forth. Intent on continuing her assault, she rammed her fist into his stomach, seeing him double over in front of her, one hand still clutching his nose.

"Jesus." Gene grabbed her and lifted her backwards, pulling her clear off the ground as she struggled.

"Let me at him," she shrieked.

"I want her arrested for assaulting a senior officer," Keats gasped, bringing a handkerchief to his bloody face. "Now."

"Oh, bloody hell," Gene sighed, still holding the spitting and struggling form of Sarah. "I am arresting you..."

"I'll kill him," Sarah screamed, breaking free of Gene and making another run at Keats. This time the WPC grabbed her, pulling her back, but not before she raked her nails across Keats' face, leaving a bloody scar. Keats brought his hand to his cheek, touching the blood there. His face twisted into a snarl.

"Bitch."

With a yell, Keats flew at her. Like a shot, Gene was on him, pulling him back just before he reached her. Gene stared from the snarling DCI to the shrieking DI and shook his head in disgust and disbelief.

"Cells," he cried. "Both of 'em. Now! Jesus Christ."


	8. Chapter 7

Sarah stared up at the grey concrete ceiling. The bench in the cell was cold and hard, even with the regulation mattress and scratchy wool blanket. She sighed. _Wonderful, just wonderful. Nicely done, Sarah. _ Why did Keats manage to get her so crazy? Every time it was guaranteed he could get directly under her skin. She knew how to push his buttons, yes, but he sure as hell knew exactly how to push hers back. _How long will I be in here anyway?_ _Did I just sign my transfer form straight into D&C?_ She idly wondered. Would Keats actually press charges? Was Keats still in a cell, or had he been released? Was Gene making an example of them, or had he just gone to Luigi's and plain forgotten they were there? She glanced at the barred window, set high in the wall. It was dark outside. _I'm here for the night, aren't I?_

The noise of the cell door opening interrupted her train of thought. She sat up in time to see Keats appear, followed by the desk sergeant.

"Budge up, Miss Jenkins," the sergeant grinned. "You have a cell mate."

"Him?" Sara jumped to her feet. "No way."

"I am not sharing a cell with that woman," Keats stormed.

"No choice. I either double up you two, or those two," the sergeant indicated behind himself to where two policemen were wrestling with a couple of giant thugs. "And I prefer my chances with you two."

He turned and left, slamming the door and securing the lock, leaving Keats and Sarah to stare at each other.

"Well now, isn't this cosy?" Keats muttered. He wandered to the corner of the cell and leaned against the wall. Under the fluorescent cell light Sara could see the beginnings of two black eyes from where she had punched him. It looked painful.

"I'm sorry about your nose," she sat down on the bench again.

"Yeah, yeah," Keats rolled his eyes. "Sure."

"I mean it," she said. "I was out of order. It's just, us. You and me, when we're around people die."

Keats stared at her. "It's what I do. Soon it will be what you do. You need to accept that sooner or later."

"I don't think I'll ever accept it."

"You will, trust me," he held her gaze. They were silent for a few moments. Keats slipped off his glasses and massaged his eyes gently.

"How did it happen?" She asked. "How did you become this?"

Keats slipped his glasses in his pocket. "There was never anything else."

"Yes there was."

He turned away from her, to face into the corner. "I'm not having this conversation with you."

"Look at me."

He continued to face the corner, but his head tilted towards the window, staring out at the night sky.

"James, I know," she continued.

"You know nothing."

"I went to see Jane."

He spun around and stared at her, but said nothing.

"1955. That's when you died, isn't it? Saving her and your little girl from the fire."

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. When he opened them again he turned his face away from her, his jaw set.

"I know, James," Sarah rose from the bench and crossed to him. She took his face in her hands, forcing him to look in her eyes. "You were twenty two. A brand new copper with a proud, beautiful wife and a tiny baby."

"That was a long time ago," he went to move away, but she held him firmly.

"All your reports said what a model PC you were, top of your class, earmarked for great things. I needed to know more, so I went to see her. She told me that you had been a loving husband, a wonderful father. Everything she could have ever wished for."

"What does it matter now?" Keats shook her off and paced the room. "None of that matters. It was another world ago, another life. I haven't been that man for many years. That man is dead."

"How? What happened to you?"

"What do you care?" He turned on her. "I've seen you and Hunt. A proper double act, these days. Sharing your little jokes. Laughing stock, am I?"

"Where did that come from?" Sarah asked, bemused. "Are you jealous?"

"You wish."

"Jesus Christ! I can't even talk to you." Sarah threw herself onto the bench and lay down, turning her face to the wall.

They remained in silence. Keats wandered back to the window and stared out. Sarah closed her eyes, pulled the flimsy, scratchy blanket over her and shivered. Night was drawing in and the cell was getting colder. She wrapped her arms around herself and curled up tighter. Then she felt something being draped across the bench. She opened her eyes to see Keats placing his coat over her.

"What are you doing?" Sarah said quietly.

"You're shivering," he walked back to the window.

"But, you'll freeze," she argued. "You're like an ice cube even when it's one hundred degrees in that office of yours."

"I'll survive."

"Please come over here."

He turned and looked at her. "Why?"

"Just, please," she stared into his eyes.

Reluctantly he crossed back to where she lay. She took his hand, it was ice cold.

"Lie with me," she whispered. He went to pull his hand away. "James."

Slowly, uncertainly, he lay down onto the narrow bench. Sarah arranged the blanket and the coat across them both and then laid down, so she was draped half over him.

"They didn't make this for two," she apologised.

After a moment she felt his body relax. She laid her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. She closed her eyes.

"Was she happy?" Keats asked. "Jane. Was she?"

"Yes," Sarah's hand wandered up to his head and she idly played with his hair. "She remarried, five years later. A wonderful man. He brought up your daughter as his own. They had three more kids. Still married when I met them, well into their nineties. Your daughter as well, she married and had two kids. She's a doctor…"

"Enough," he kissed the top of her head and wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you."

"Will you tell me, one day? What happened to you?"

"Why is it so important?" Keats breathed, his eyes closing.

"Because I need to know who you are."

"You already know who I am."

"Who you really are."

"What if there is nothing else?"

"I don't believe that," she looked up at him. "I don't believe you could have left it all behind. Something in you connected with me and you never let that go. Why?"

Keats opened his eyes. "Look at that."

She followed his gaze; the concrete ceiling of the cell had disappeared, and in its place were a thousand glittering stars.

"It's so beautiful," he whispered. "Always, it takes my breath away."

"What is it?" Sarah asked.

"That's the truth," Keats held her tighter. "You know how this has to end. Why fight it?"

Sarah felt her eyelids growing heavy. She nestled into his chest as sleep began to claim her. "Because I think PC James Keats was worth fighting for."


	9. Chapter 8

"You did what?" Gene stormed.

"I put them in together," the desk sergeant explained. "Look, you said a couple of hours. Not all night…"

"I changed my mind," Gene drummed his fingers on the desk. "DCI's prerogative. I wanted to give 'em time to cool down, think about what they've done."

"Well, they definitely calmed down," the sergeant grinned. "What was it, a lover's tiff?"

"What?" Gene started towards the cells.

The sergeant duly unlocked the door, and was elbowed out of the way by Gene. He pushed his way into the cell and then stopped dead.

"See. I'd call that pretty calm," the sergeant wandered away.

Gene stared down at the sleeping officers. Keats, looking uncharacteristically peaceful, cradled Sarah into his chest. A sinking feeling seeped through Gene from his guts down to his boots. He didn't like defeat, but this was it, staring him in the face. He'd lost her. Whatever had passed between them he could never understand, and suddenly he was tired of trying.

"Oi," Gene shouted. "Wake up, sleeping beauty."

Sarah opened her eyes and looked around, trying to orient herself. She looked up at Gene.

"Guv," she blinked hard in the daylight. "What time is it?"

"Time you got back to work," he grumbled. "Come on. Up and out."

Beside her, Keats stirred. He opened his eyes and a lazy smile crossed his face. "Good morning, Hunt."

"Get stuffed, Keats," Gene retorted. "Lady Muck, I want you at your desk in five minutes. Clear?" He turned and stalked out of the cell, kicking the door as he passed.

"I better go," she pulled herself upright and began smoothing down her clothes.

Keats grabbed her hand. "Why keep up this charade? Come with me to D&C, today. Now."

"Nice try," she bent and placed a kiss on his cheek, before disappearing out the door.

Keats watched her go, his smile widening. His victory was so close now he could almost taste it. He just had to have patience. Once he had her in D&C all this talk of his past would cease. He was certain of that.

_Because when you burn all you can feel are the flames._

* * *

><p>Sarah arrived in CID just as the morning briefing was concluding. She had stopped at the ladies en route, in an attempt to make herself human again. Gene gave her a thunderous look as she walked through the doors.<p>

"Glad you decided to take time out of your love life to join us, Lady Muck," Gene hollered.

"I'm sorry Guv," she apologised. "Where are we?"

"_We_ are going to try to flush out Mr Young, who has gone to ground since your boyfriend decided to release him," Gene replied, as he pulled on his coat.

"He's not my…." Sarah began.

"You, on the other hand, will remain here and process this paperwork. Use your secretarial skills. See if you can make yourself useful for a change."

"Guv, with respect, that's a DC's job," Sarah argued.

"And I am about one millimetre away from bouncing your arse back down to DC," Gene exploded. "So I suggest you keep your gob shut and do your job."

"Yes, Guv," Sarah replied, chastened.

Gene stormed past her and she winced as the doors slammed on his exit. Slowly the rest of the office emptied as the various officers made their way out. Finally she was alone. She eyed the pile of paper on her desk and sighed.

About an hour later she heard the double doors open. She looked up to see Keats strolling towards her.

"All alone?" He scanned the office.

"Yep, just me and my forms," she confirmed.

"Where's Hunt and his band of losers?" He perched on the edge of her desk and folded his arms.

"They've gone to try and locate Clive Young," she explained. "DCI Hunt felt it would be best if I was to stay here and offer administrative support."

"He's sidelined you?" Keats sneered. "That's unacceptable. You could make a formal complaint."

"Leave it," she rubbed her head. "Please? It's not worth it. He's angry with me for this morning."

"All the more reason to expedite your transfer," Keats pressed. "Just say the word and you could be free of him by this afternoon."

"I said, leave it," Sarah snapped. "He'll calm down."

"I don't understand your ridiculous misplaced loyalty to Hunt," Keats towered over her. "Do you honestly think he'll spend one minute mourning you, when you're gone?"

"You're so damn sure you're going to win, aren't you?" Sarah stood and faced him. "What if I say no? What if I choose him?"

"Then I will break both of you, and this department, piece by piece," Keats snarled. "By the time I finish with you, you will be begging to join me."

"Get out," she hissed.

Keats grinned. "Maybe now you understand. PC James Keats is long dead, but DCI Jim Keats is waiting for you, whenever you're ready." He sauntered back up the office. "But my patience has limits, of course."

Keats pushed his way through the double doors and left. Sarah sank down into her seat, hastily sweeping away the tears which had sprung up. She slapped the desk in anger. _Stupid girl,_ she chided herself. _Did you honestly think you could ever reach him? He's the Devil, for God's sake, not a man. Not anymore._

And she buried her head in her hands and cried.

* * *

><p>The officers began to return around late afternoon. Sarah was just completing the paperwork when Gene arrived and went straight to his office. She walked over and knocked on the glass door.<p>

"What?" Gene called.

Sarah went in and closed the door. "Paperwork all processed."

"Good," he took a swig from the whisky bottle he was holding. "That all?"

"How did it go?" She ventured.

"Nothing," Gene sniffed. "Bastard has vanished into thin air."

"Well, tomorrow we'll hit the files," Sarah said. "Known associates, any links…"

"Tomorrow you are being transferred," Gene took another swig from his bottle and sat down at his desk.

"What?" Sarah asked, stunned.

"D&C put in a request. I said yes," Gene stared at her. "I think you'll fit in very well."

"But, Guv…"

"But nothing," Gene spat. "You told me that you would not interfere with my department. You stopped me from interrogating Young, your boyfriend released him, someone died. I will not have you playing havoc with people's lives, just because you've had some lovers' tiff."

"We're not lovers..."

"Don't give me that! You lied to me from day one, and you're lying now," Gene stood, his face red with anger. "Go home, Sarah. Tomorrow morning I want you in early to clear out your desk before the rest of the team arrive."

"Gene, I…"

"I am not going to waste another second of my time on you," Gene turned away to look out the window. "Goodbye."

Sarah stared at him. His mind was made up. She walked to the door. "I'm sorry."

Gene watched Sarah walk to her desk, collect her bag and coat and leave. He took a deep drink from his bottle of whisky, feeling the darkness gnawing at his insides. He felt utterly sick and completely alone. A failure.


	10. Chapter 9

Sarah sat in her front room, staring at the wall. She felt numb. This was it. She was being transferred. It was signed and sealed. She wondered what would happen and how it would feel_. _

_I am actually going to hell._

Despite herself she laughed; it was a surreal notion. She wondered why she wasn't more afraid, and then considered that she had known all along that she would end up with Keats. His hold on her was too powerful for her to resist. She was weak. She hadn't been as strong as all the others; Sam, Alex and the rest. This was always how it was going to end.

A knock at the door interrupted her chain of thought. She rose and went to answer, already knowing who it would be. As expected, she opened the door to find Keats there, brandishing a bottle of wine.

"Come to gloat?" She asked.

"Would I?" He made a mock hurt face.

"Yes, you would." She stepped aside to allow him in.

He walked into her living room, pulled off his coat, folded it and placed it over a chair. Sarah retrieved two glasses while Keats opened the wine. He poured and handed one to her.

"To your new career," he smiled.

She chinked her glass with him and drank. "Forgive me if I'm not as giddy with excitement as you clearly are."

"It's a cause for celebration," Keats sat back on the sofa. "We're going to be such a team. Together we're going to pull that whole station down, before they even know what hit them."

Sarah regarded him over the rim of her glass. "What is it with you and him? Why are you so obsessed?"

"He does what he does," Keats shrugged, loosening his tie. "I do what I do. Way of the world."

"No, it's more than that," she sat forward. "Tell me."

"Shhh," Keats took her glass from her and placed it down with his. He brought his fingers to her face and ran them along her jaw. "Not tonight. Let's just enjoy the moment, shall we?"

His lips crashed into hers and his tongue probed her mouth, hungrily. She pulled his jacket from his shoulders and threw it to the floor. He pushed her down into the sofa, his hands roaming her body. She moaned into his mouth and he bit down on her lower lip, pressing his body into her.

"Just give in to me," he whispered. "I win. Let go."

And she wanted to; at that moment she wanted it more than anything. But still, she had to know.

"Please," she looked into his eyes, imploring. "What difference does it make? As you said, you win. Just…tell me what happened to you."

He stared down at her for a moment, his eyes clouded. She saw a million emotions flit across his face at once. Eventually he sat up, grabbing his wine and draining it. "You will have to learn to respect my authority."

"And I'm sure you will take care of that, from tomorrow."

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I was twenty two years old when I arrived. A boy. I knew nothing about anything. I had no idea what this place was. I ended up in the North. Manchester-Salford to be precise. A DC, wet behind the ears and desperate to learn. My DCI was…"

"Gene Hunt?" She smiled ruefully.

"Who else? With all his macho pride, all his bravado, it was clear we weren't going to be exactly close friends," Keats poured himself more wine and took a gulp. "But it was worse than that. I wanted it done by the book, and all around me was corruption. Officers taking bungs, others turning a blind eye. I went to Hunt, but he wasn't interested. Instead he gave me a black eye for ratting on my colleagues. Then the bullying started. I was the 'softy southerner', easy pickings for a bunch of overweight, whisky sodden blokes with a point to prove. And Gene ignored it all, said it was 'character building', that it would 'harden me up'."

Keats rose and walked over to the window. Sarah watched him, she could see from the outline of his body under his shirt that he was tense. If she didn't know better, she would have said that this was painful for him.

"There was this thief. Petty criminal, a few handbags and the odd picked pocket. There was a spate of burglaries and some old dear got whacked over the head with an iron bar. The DI and the DS wanted to fit him up for the murder. Get it in the papers. Impress Hunt. They asked me to forge the arrest report. I refused. They got me alone in the bathroom after everyone left."

"What happened?" Sarah asked quietly.

"I was found in the morning by the cleaners, half dead. They took me to hospital. Hunt showed up almost immediately, of course. He asked me what happened, I told him and he said he would 'deal with it'. Then he told me to keep my mouth shut and we should 'never speak of this again'. The next day a D&C officer arrived, DCI Nicholas Callahan. He talked to me and he listened. He really listened. He went in, dismissed those two thugs and put Hunt on a warning. Hunt came back to see me one last time. He told me that my services would no longer be required in his department, and so he was facilitating a transfer to D&C, since I would obviously fit in very well."

"Sounds familiar," Sarah muttered blackly.

"And so, when I recovered, I started again in D&C. In Manchester at first, but when Callahan transferred to Scotland Yard he took me with him. He groomed me, I suppose, to take over from him. And I did. He broke me down and remade me, piece by piece, into what you see today. Better. Stronger. I will do that for you."

Sarah crossed to him and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so sorry."

Keats stepped back and regarded her suspiciously. "What for?"

"That's awful," she took his hand. "What Hunt did to you."

"You think I need your pity?" He snapped.

"I think it's a painful memory for you," she soothed.

"What do you know?" Keats threw her off. "This is why I didn't want to tell you, because you would try to spin it. Turn this into some reason to feel sorry for me. Try and heal me."

"James…"

"Tomorrow you will learn," he hissed. "No more of this. Once I'm done with you, you're not going to care about your past, my past, any of it. You will just see the glorious truth."

"I see the truth now," she ventured. "I don't think that 22 year old is dead. I think he's there, inside of you. I think he's the man that saved my life in the garage. I think he's the man that could never quite stay away, in all of the twenty years I left you, just because he had finally found someone in this world that he could connect with."

"You're pathetic," he sneered. "I don't have to listen to this." He went to leave.

Sarah ran to the living room door, barring it with her body. "Yes you do."

"Get out of my way," Keats threatened. "I won't tell you again."

"He's there, James. I've seen him," she pressed. "If you're so brave. If you're so powerful. If you're Mr Big Man, not afraid of anything, then show him to me."

"No!" Fire and rage flashed through his eyes and he slapped her, hard, across the face. She flew into the wall, knocking the wind from her lungs and collapsed on the floor. Keats stormed past her, threw open the front door and stepped into the cold, wet night.

But, halfway down the path he stopped. He stared up into the rain. Something inside him was screaming. Somewhere a part of him he thought was long dead and buried was alive and raging at what he had just done. A pain ripped at his guts and he doubled over, landing on his knees on the cold concrete. He pounded his fist onto the wet pavement and hissed in grief and pain. Then he felt something across his back, something warm and dry. He turned and saw Sarah, her cheek bruised, soaking wet, laying his coat over his shoulders. He straightened up and turned. Instinctively she stepped back, fear in her eyes and inside he felt very cold and hollow. He took a deep breath and made a silent wish.

_Please. One night. After all these years and everything I have done for you. Tomorrow I will deliver her to you. Tomorrow you will get your prize. But please, just give me tonight._

And somewhere, deep inside him, the beast curled up into a contented sleep.

And she saw the change in his eyes. He stepped forward and kissed her, there in the rain, and his touch was warm, not cold. He gently lifted her into his arms and carried her inside.

And he didn't force himself on her. He didn't have to be rough. He didn't need to bite, or bruise her. He didn't need to hiss threats in her ear. For the first time in over half a century he just simply made love to a woman.

* * *

><p>Gene drained the whisky bottle and threw it in the bin. He rose and crossed to his cabinet, where he located another full bottle. He uncapped it and took a swig as he returned to his desk. His notebook was open in front of him and staff photos spilled over his desk and onto the floor.<p>

_I gave up on her._

He took another drink as he flicked through the pad. So many officers, so many faces. All moved on, mostly to the pub, but one or two had been lost. It was never easy to lose an officer to Keats. It didn't happen often, but every time was like a bereavement. This time it was worse; because Gene Hunt had given up. He tried to tell himself that she was disruptive, a damaging influence around the department, but he knew the truth. He just didn't know how to play this new game.

He stood up, bottle in one hand, and plucked a well-worn photo from the desk. Alex Drake stared back at him from the picture, frozen in time from over twenty years ago. _What would she say if she knew? If she knew I had given up on one of our own? She'd be disgusted with me. What did I always say? 'You don't leave an officer behind?' What happened to loyalty?_

With a scream of rage Gene threw the bottle towards the wall. He watched it fly through the air, expecting it to shatter into a thousand satisfying pieces on impact, but, instead, it simply sailed straight through, leaving a gaping rip in his office wall. He stepped forward, his heart hammering, and looked out of the hole.

All he could see were a million stars. And suddenly his head filled with remembrance. He didn't need his notebook anymore. He could remember them; all of them. Every single officer from London to Manchester.

And, as he recalled a lanky, bespectacled DC, from over fifty years ago, Gene's stomach flipped.

"Oh, bugger."


	11. Chapter 10

The next morning Sarah and Keats were in the office by 8am. He watched as she cleared her desk; she had few belongings and it was a quick job.

Keats was almost glowing with pleasure. By the time she had woken up that morning he was already showered, shaved and dressed, ready to leave. She looked into his eyes, but she could no longer see the man she had come to know the night before. She and James had made love and lay in each other's arms talking all night, dropping off just as the sun began to rise. She had been certain the man she had read about in those files still existed, and she had been right. Maybe she could reach him again? Once they were in D&C maybe she could try to save him?

"Ready?" Keats smiled. "You have a busy day ahead of you; best get started nice and early."

"I don't think so, Jimbo," Gene pushed open the door from his office and strolled out. "Changed my mind. My DI is not up for transfer. Not today, not ever."

"Oh, I don't think so Hunt," Keats drew himself up to his full height. "It's done, signed off."

"Well I think that form might have accidently fallen into my shredder," Gene brought himself face to face with Keats. "Oopsie daisy."

"Sarah, we're leaving," Keats stared into Gene's eyes.

"Jenkins, sit your arse down, you're staying put," Gene countered.

"Get out of my way, Hunt," Keats snarled.

Out of nowhere Gene head-butted him and he reeled backwards. "How does that feel, Jimbo?" Gene launched himself at Keats and, taken by surprise, Keats fell to the floor. Hunt was on him immediately and the two rolled around, exchanging blows.

"Stop it!" Sarah screamed.

Officers began to drift into the room, alerted by the noise. They watched as the two DCIs tore into each other, knocking desks and chairs flying. The crowd began to react, cheering for Gene, willing him on to beat Keats into a bloody pulp. Gene had the upper hand, and was atop of Keats, straddling him when he was aware that the room had gone deathly silent. By the side of his head, he heard a click. He looked up to see Sarah pointing a gun directly at him.

"I said, stop it," she spoke slowly, quietly. "Get off him."

"Sarah…"

"Get off him Hunt or I swear I will shoot you right now."

He regarded her; her hand was not shaking, not as much as a tremor. She meant every word. Slowly, he pulled himself up and backed away, with his hands up. Sarah went straight to Keats to check his injuries, the gun still trained on Gene. Out of the corner of his eye he saw an officer moving to disarm her, he shook his head and the officer stepped back.

"How dare you?" She stood and faced Gene, the gun still levelled at him. "How dare you? The great Gene Hunt? The Gene Genie? Always there to help people along, to help them sort themselves out? Yeah? Well only if he feels like it. Only if it's not too much of a stretch, too much of a bother."

"Sarah," Gene began. "I only just remembered who he is."

"Oh really?" She spat. "Well good for you. He has to live with what you did to him, forever. You abandoned him to D&C. Like you've abandoned me. Everything that has happened, it's all on your head."

Behind her Keats began pulling himself up. He was bloodied and battered and for a second Gene thought he caught a glimpse of the boy that he had failed all those years ago.

"Lean on me, James," Sarah put her arm around him.

"I'm sorry," Gene said. "I hadn't been here long myself. I was a kid in a grown man's body. A child with a DCI badge and I didn't know what I was doing. And I couldn't bear to be challenged. I failed. I'm sorry."

Keats sneered at him. "I should thank you, Hunt. You showed me the truth. You showed me what a fraud you are. Now she knows you're a fake. You're nothing. We're going to take you apart."

"Stay," Gene appealed. "We can find a way to set this right."

"Come on," Keats leaned heavily on Sarah as they made their way to the door.

"Sarah!" Gene called. "Whatever you think he is, the man that walked into my office over fifty years ago is dead. He's not there anymore. You can't save him."

"Don't follow me," she replied. "Don't try to stop me, just leave us alone."

Gene watched as she helped the broken form of Jim Keats through the doors, down the corridor and out of sight. He looked around at his team, staring back at him, confused. He turned away from them and headed back to his office.

"Don't you lot have a bleedin' arsonist to catch?"


	12. Chapter 11

Sarah clung to James in the lift as it descended. Neither had spoken on the walk down to the lift lobby. There was nothing left to say. She took a tissue from her pocket and gently wiped the blood from his face.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"He's a thug," she shook her head.

Keats stroked her cheek. "It doesn't matter. None of it matters anymore, except you're here with me."

"Eternity." She smiled, and she saw something flit through his eyes. "James?"

But it was gone. The lift came to a halt and the doors slid open.

"Shall we?" He gestured.

She stepped out of the lift into a long, black corridor. It was hot; searing, burning hot. She fanned herself.

"You'll grow to love the heat," he began walking towards a door at the far end of the corridor, leading her by the hand. She noted with every step his injuries seemed to dissipate, until he was striding ahead, tall and strong.

They heard screaming from behind the door. "What was that?" She froze.

Keats turned to her. "What would Discipline and Complaints be, without the discipline?"

Still she stood, frozen with fear. He wrapped his arms around her. "Hey, come on," he soothed, stroking her hair. "You're with me. I won't let anything bad happen to you. I promise." He looked down into her eyes and kissed her softly.

"I trust you, James," she murmured.

He stepped back, looking at her strangely. "Come on, we're running late."

He turned and strode ahead towards the door. She tailed behind. Suddenly his whole body lurched to the floor and he howled in pain.

"James?" Sarah ran toward him.

"Go back," he hissed. Another wave hit him and he writhed on the floor. Noises seemed to emanate from deep inside his body; inhuman noises.

She froze, unsure of what to do. He pulled himself to his knees.

"I can't stop him," James cried. "I can't hold him. He's going to hurt you. He's going to burn you, and I can't make him stop. I don't want to give him to you. Get away, now. Run."

Tears poured down her cheeks. "James…"

"Run!"

Sarah turned and ran back towards the lift. Behind her Keats reared up with an animalistic howl and began stalking towards her. She hit the button to call the lift and turned towards him. His eyes glowed with an eerie red light; his face, though still mostly human, was distorted and twisted; his body was hunched. He hissed and spat and snarled like a rabid animal.

"You're mine," he growled. "The things I am going to do to you..."

With a ping the doors opened and she fell backwards into the lift. She hit the button repeatedly, desperately, as he took off into a sprint towards her. She pushed herself into the corner of the lift as he ran at her, roaring. She closed her eyes, and as she did the doors slid steadily to a close. There was a crash and a manic scream as Keats hit the metal of the doors, leaving a huge dent across them both.

The lift glided upwards, and soon she could no longer hear his outraged howls. The doors opened in the lobby and she staggered out, dazed, and somehow climbed the stairs back to the main CID floor. She stumbled out of the stairwell just as her legs finally gave way. She crawled into the corner of the corridor, curled into a ball and sobbed. A few moments later she felt someone sit next to her and she could smell whisky, aftershave and cigarettes. Gene pulled her into his arms and let her cry.

"You're safe," he murmured. "You're safe now."


	13. Chapter 12

Two weeks passed without incident. CID were engrossed in finding Clive Young and Sarah threw herself into her work, while Gene kept a close eye on her. For the first week he had insisted on kipping on her sofa every night, but after his back gave in he decided to abandon his 24 hour vigil. Nobody had seen Keats. His office door remained closed, the heaters were switched off and he wasn't anywhere in the building. Gene remarked that he had disappeared before, sometimes for months, usually after some kind of disappointment, but he would always show up eventually. Like the bad penny he was.

Sometimes Gene would catch her, staring into space, and he just knew she was thinking about Keats. On those occasions, he found that throwing something heavy in her direction would generally snap her out of it. But when he lay on her sofa and heard her cry herself to sleep every night, he was lost. 

_I don't do feelings. How the bloody hell do you help someone get over a messy break up with Lucifer?_

Sarah ducked the 'Metropolitan Police Procedural Guidelines' that had been aimed at her head and pursed her lips at Gene. He laughed and wandered back into his office. She picked up a file and tried to read. But her mind kept wandering back to James. Not Keats, not the thing that had almost dragged her into hell, but James. She flicked a page, lest Gene catch her daydreaming again. She felt adrift. For the past twenty years she had been used to carrying Keats around with her. He was in her dreams; he was in the movement caught in the corner of her eye. He was everywhere and nowhere. Now, he was just nowhere. No more dreams, not even any nightmares. She didn't feel his presence when she was alone. He was like a distant memory. She wondered what had happened to him, or more truthfully, she wondered what had happened to James. Had anything of him survived, or had that beast purged his soul entirely? Would anything be left when she saw him again? If she saw him again.

"Guv, another fire, corner shop," the WPC disturbed her train of thought.

Gene was already on his feet and pulling on his coat. He strode out of his office clapping his hands. "What are we waiting for? Come on team, move! Lady Muck, with me," He pulled a radio from his pocket and spoke into it. "All units, on arrival secure the area. No one goes in or out. He'll be there somewhere, watching. And I want that bastard."

"If he's getting active again, this might be our chance," Sarah rushed to catch up with Gene. "He knows he's wanted, if he's brave enough to …."

They walked out of the office and stopped dead. At the far end of the corridor was Keats. He looked as if he had just arrived for work, even though it was well past six o'clock; his coat and gloves were on and he carried his briefcase. Their eyes locked for a moment, his face unreadable, and then he walked on, out of sight.

"See," Gene muttered. "Told you. Bad penny."

Sarah shivered. Gene slipped his arm around her and squeezed her shoulder.

"It'll be fine," he smiled. "Trust me. Come on. Forget him; we've got work to do."

She nodded and they continued on their way.


	14. Chapter 13

By the time they arrived the fire brigade had the blaze well under control. The PCs had combed the area, but found no trace of Clive Young.

"I've interviewed the owners," Sarah indicated a shell-shocked couple in their 60's. "They've never even heard of Clive Young. Same M.O. though, a milk bottle and petrol."

"Doesn't fit the pattern," Gene muttered. "Is this one him, or someone else?"

"And if it was him, what is he up to?" Sarah questioned.

Suddenly Gene's radio crackled into life. "All units, major incident at Fenchurch East Police Station. All units, please respond."

Gene brought the radio to his lips. "DCI Hunt here."

"DCI Hunt, we have a major fire at Fenchurch East Police Station. Please return to base immediately."

Gene and Sarah exchanged a look before running to the car.

On the drive back to base Gene raged about what he was going to do to Clive Young once he had hold of him. It involved Gene's hammer, some twelve inch nails and Young's scrotum. Sarah listened in silence, all the time her mind whirring with the same question. _Was James in that building when it went up?_

They arrived to find chaos. A cordon had been set up and fire engines were beginning to arrive. Thick black smoke and flames poured from windows and flew up into the dark night sky. The heat was unbelievable.

"Where's my staff?" Gene demanded to a nearby fireman.

"We need to check the muster point," Sarah explained.

"The what?" Gene yelled.

"The muster point! Where you have to go and stand during a fire drill," she replied.

"You mean Luigi's?"

"No, that's just where you go during fire drills for a crafty pint and a smoke," she rolled her eyes. "Come on."

They pushed through the growing crowd of onlookers and found their department across the road, opposite the building. Gene quickly ascertained that all the office staff were accounted for. He leaned against the wall and sighed in relief. Sarah looked around, nervously.

"Where is DCI Keats?" she asked. "Did he get out?"

"Don't know, ma'am," one of the administrators said.

"Did anyone see him?" She questioned.

"He was in his office, just before the fire alarms went off."

Sarah turned and ran towards the building. Gene caught up with her and grabbed her arm. "What the ruddy bloody hell are you doing?"

"What if he's inside, Gene?" She tried to shake him off but he gripped her firmly.

"You are not to go near that building, DI Jenkins," Gene shouted. "And that is a direct order." He relaxed his grip on her arm. "I'll go ask security if they saw him leave. You tell the fire officer that there might be a man trapped on our floor."

Sarah went to walk away, but Gene pulled her back.

"Would he even be in danger?" Gene questioned. "I'd have thought fire was an occupational hazard for your Jimbo."

"I don't know," she admitted. "But I can't take the chance."

Gene stared at her for a moment. "I will never understand you and 'im, love," he said softly. "Go on, I'm going to ask around."

"Thanks Guv," Sarah turned and ran towards the fire teams, locating the chief officer.

"There's a man unaccounted for on our floor," she told him.

"Where?" He showed her to a plan of the building.

"CID, there," Sarah pointed to the plan. "He has a small office inside. DCI James Keats. Jim."

"Okay love," the officer went to walk away. "We don't think the fire has spread to that floor yet. As soon as we are clear to send teams in, I'll send men up."

"Can't you go in now?" She asked.

"Not until we've done a risk assessment."

The officer walked away. Sarah looked towards the building. One of the fire exits was open; smoke poured from it, but no flames. She looked around. Gene was on the opposite side of the road talking to security, and the firemen were crowded round in a meeting. She gritted her teeth and ran for the door.

"Miss!" One of the firemen yelled. "What are you doing?"

Gene spun around in time to see Sarah reach the door. "Sarah! Get your arse out of there now. That's an order!"

Sarah disappeared into the building, without a backwards glance.

"You bloody stupid mare!" Gene raged.


	15. Chapter 14

Sarah walked gingerly up the fire escape. There were no flames, but the smoke was thick and acrid. She put her scarf over her mouth and tried to crouch as low as possible. She could hear the roar of the flames from above and around her and her heart beat hard in her chest. _What the hell am I doing? _Logic told her to turn back immediately, but instinct spurred her on. _This is ridiculous_, she considered. _He's probably up there toasting marshmallows and having a fantastic time._

She reached CID's floor and emerged into the corridor. The flames had begun to lick around the main office. She carefully pushed through the doors and began to pick her way across. The sound of smashing glass made her jump, she spun around to see the windows to Gene's office explode in the heat as the flames gained height. She quickened her pace until she reached Keats' room and pushed the door open. He wasn't there.

"James!" She called out. "James!" The smoke caught in her throat and she doubled over coughing.

"Sarah!" She heard a gruff northern voice yelling. "You bloody stupid cow, where are you?"

Sarah spotted Gene across the office. "Guv? What the hell are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same bloody thing," he countered. "Did you find him?"

"He's not in his office," she looked around.

"We've got to get out." The glass between the office and the corridor shattered, showering Gene in shards. He ducked to the floor.

"Guv!" Sarah ran to him. "Alright, come on."

They began to make their way back to the corridor. Around them the building groaned and shuddered as the metal twisted in surrender to the heat. Suddenly there was an almighty bang as part of the ceiling gave way.

"Move!" Gene pushed Sarah out of the way as a mass of metal and concrete fell where they stood, burying him.

"Guv!" Sarah screamed. She pulled herself to her feet and began dragging the debris from him. "Guv!"

Gene lay still. Sarah tore at the rubble pinning him to the ground. There was one large piece of metal across his chest, she tugged and pulled at it, but it would not budge.

"Gene," she cried. She felt his neck and found a very weak pulse. "You can't die on me. You can't!" She stroked his hair as tears rolled down her cheeks. "Please."

She felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Keats stood behind her.

"Out of my way," he said quietly.

"No," she stood and stared at him. "You can't take him."

"He's done," Keats' voice was matter of fact. "Get out of the way."

"No!" Sarah threw herself across Gene's body. "Not him. It's not fair!"

Keats lifted her from Gene easily and moved her behind him.

"There is nothing left for you here," he intoned flatly. "The boy insisted on your freedom. Now leave this place and never come back."

Keats turned and knelt down by Gene's head. His hands went towards Gene's face.

"No!" Sarah threw herself between them. "I'll take his place."

Keats froze. "What did you just say?"

"I'll take his place," she begged. "I'll do it. Have me instead."

Keats stared at her strangely. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Just let me take him to safety. Then I'll come back to you. I give you my word," she promised. "No running away. Let me take his place."

"If you vow this now, you can never go back on it," he warned. "Eternity."

She looked from the stricken Gene to Keats and swallowed hard. "Eternity."

Keats turned and pushed the heavy piece of metal from Gene's chest, as if it were no more than a piece of polystyrene. He rose, and as he did the flames seemed to recede.

"Your decision," he turned and walked out of the office.

Beside her Gene took a deep breath and began coughing.

"Gene," she stroked his hair. "Wake up."

Gene opened his eyes. "What the hell?" He asked, weakly.

"I'm so sorry," she shook her head. "This was my fault."

"You're demoted," he coughed.

"Fair enough. Now come on, I've got to get you out of here."

Sarah helped Gene to his feet. He felt a searing pain in his chest and nearly doubled over. Sarah supported him. "Lean on me, I have you."

Slowly, step by step, she led him into the corridor. They struggled down the stairs, Gene's breathing growing shallower with every minute.

"You hang on, Guv," she muttered.

They made it to the fire exit, and out onto the street. They were soon surrounded by paramedics.

"Get them off me," Gene coughed.

"Guv, you need to go to hospital," Sarah explained.

"I'm going to the pub," he grumbled.

"This is no time to go drinking!" Sarah exclaimed.

"No!" With all his strength Gene turned to face her. He stared into her eyes. "Take me to the pub. My pub."

Sarah faltered. "Guv, we need…"

"Please." There was something in his voice, an urgency that she had never heard from him before, together with…pleading?

"Leave him," she batted away the assembled medical staff and supported him across the road. "I'll need your keys."

She helped him to the car and onto the back seat. She jumped in and adjusted the driver's seat.

"Bloody woman," he muttered. "Messing with my car."

"I could still call those ambulances over here, you know!" She told him. "Where are we going?"

"I'll tell you," he coughed. "Just drive."

She turned the key. Ahead, in the distance, she saw the WPC arresting Clive Young. She smiled and pulled away, with Gene directing her from the back seat.


	16. Chapter 15

After a while he directed her into a non-descript cul-de-sac.

"This is it," he coughed.

"Are you sure, Guv?" She asked.

"I've been coming here over twenty years," he grumbled. "I might be dying, but I'm not a bloody idiot."

"Don't say that," she got out the car and went to the back. She helped Gene to his feet and began walking down the dark street. "You'll go on forever."

Suddenly Gene faltered and fell to his knees. Sarah knelt down with him and held him tight.

"I'm so tired," he whispered.

"You have to keep going," she pulled him up. "Just lean on me. Tell me where to go."

At that moment, they were hit by a blinding white light. Sarah shielded her eyes as the windows of the building ahead glowed, bathing them in light.

"This is it," Gene breathed. He stopped leaning on her. Sarah looked at him. Swathed in the light his injuries had gone and he looked younger, somehow. Less careworn. Sarah looked back to the building and, as her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she could make out a sign above the door.

_The Railway Arms._

The door opened and a tall, thin, Jamaican man stepped out.

"Mon brave," he called.

"Evening Nelson," Gene replied.

"And Miss Jenkins." Nelson gave a wide, open, friendly smile. "Your first time here, I see."

"A pint and a whisky chaser," Gene began walking towards the door. "And whatever Lady Muck 'ere wants. A Babycham, or something."

Sarah walked with Gene to the door. Nelson shook his hand and hugged him like an old friend.

"There are some people waiting for you," Nelson gestured inside.

Sarah looked in. In the white light she could make out the faces from the files she had read; Sam Tyler, Annie Cartwright, Alex Drake, Ray Carling, Chris Skelton and Shaz Granger. Gene grinned and stepped through the door. She saw Alex wrap her arms around him and kiss him deeply. Then Sam stepped forward and clasped him in a warm embrace, followed by the others.

Sarah smiled. Nelson watched her closely.

"One down, my darlin'," he said. "It's not such a bad job, is it?"

Sarah looked at him, confused. "I'm sorry?"

He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small wallet. He pressed it in her hand. Gingerly she opened it.

"Come on, Lady Muck," Gene appeared at the door. "Beer o'clock. Good drinking time is wasting."

"You go on ahead, eh Guv?" She smiled.

Gene looked down at what she held in her hands. Suddenly he understood.

"You shouldn't have done that," he said quietly. "You didn't have to."

"Yes, I did," she met his eye. "Makes perfect sense when you think about it."

"Nothing about you makes any sense," he laughed.

She laughed too. "I guess not," she shook her head. "Anyway, work to be done. Can't stand around here all day chatting."

Gene leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Take care of yourself. And tell Jimbo that I'm coming back to 'aunt him."

"I will," she grinned. "Thank you, Gene. For everything."

He stared at her for a moment and then turned away. He walked back to his circle of friends and Sarah saw Alex wrap her arm around him. The light became more intense and pulsed and then they were gone.

"I'll be seeing you, my darlin'?" Nelson asked.

"Definitely," she confirmed.

"Until then," he stepped back inside and closed the door softly. The white light pulsed again and Sarah had to shield her eyes. Then it died and she was facing a derelict, boarded up pub.

She turned. Dawn was breaking and the sky was a beautiful red. She walked back to the car, got in and started it up. She drove back towards Fenchurch East and turned into the road.

The station was completely rebuilt. It gleamed in the sunrise, all sleek metal and shining glass. She parked up, went inside and walked up to the CID floor. The building had been completely modernised; it smelt of new carpet, polish, chrome and wood. She scanned the ID she had been given against the door pad and walked into the CID office. Like everywhere else, the office had been brought into the 21st century. Laptops were on every desk and a big LED screen was on one wall. She looked down to the end of the office. Facing her were two brand new glass offices. She walked closer so she could read the names on the doors.

'DCI James Keats' read one.

'DCI Sarah Jenkins' read the other.

Sarah looked down at the warrant card Nelson had given her and smiled. _I guess I really did take his place._

The door to Keats' office swung open, and he stepped out. They stared at each other.

"Congratulations on the promotion, DCI Jenkins," he leaned against the doorframe.

"Thank you, DCI Keats," she opened the door to her office and went inside. The office was as modern as she would have expected. Something caught her eye; a framed medal hung on the wall. She crossed to it and read the plaque. _Queen's Gallantry Medal. Awarded to DCI Gene Hunt who was killed in the line of duty while rescuing a fellow officer from the devastating fire at Fenchurch East Police Station._ A picture of Gene sat above the medal.

"Always the hero," she smiled as tears pricked her eyes. "Good on you, Guv."

She heard the door close as Keats joined her. "Regrets?"

She turned to face him. "None."

"Well, Sarah," he leaned against her desk and folded his arms. "Of course, as a new DCI I will be keeping a very close eye on your progress."

"I would expect nothing less from you, James," she smiled.

His face clouded. "I told you before, this is me, this is what I do. And now, that is what you do. Opposite sides of the fence. Rivals."

"I know," she nodded. "You're a long term project."

He stared at her in surprise. "Me?"

She walked slowly over and stood close to him, her body almost touching his. She reached across and flicked a switch on her desk. The glass walls went opaque instantly. "If James can do a deal with the Devil to keep me safe, maybe there's hope for him yet?"

"You can't save me," he breathed.

"I can try," she brought her lips to his and kissed him softly. Despite himself he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. She laid her head on his shoulder and toyed with his curls.

"This is going to be different," he nuzzled his face into her hair.

"Yes," she grinned. "You're playing by my rules now."

"And I'm going to win," he whispered in her ear.

"No you're not," she kissed him again and nibbled on his lower lip. "You won't know what's hit you, Jimbo."

"Gene Hunt school of charm, eh?"

"Taught me everything I know. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do," she stepped away from him and went to sit at her desk.

"Very well, Miss Jenkins," he made his way to the door. "I expect to see this team up to standard within the week."

"Of course," she opened her laptop. "Oh, DCI Keats?"

He paused, his hand on the door handle. "Yes?"

"Will my rival be bringing wine with him when he comes over tonight?"

He turned to her; she looked into his eyes and saw James looking back. "Maybe we don't need to be rivals out of hours."

She smiled at him. "See, I'm winning already."

He laughed and walked out of the door. She flicked the switch so that her walls were clear again and looked out. Officers were starting to drift in. The door at the end of the office opened and a dazed looking man in odd clothes staggered through.

"What the hell happened to this place?" He demanded. "What is this? Where's my desk gone?"

Sarah got up and headed for the door. She glanced at the medal on the wall. 

_Here we go, then, _she took a deep breath_. Wish me luck, Guv, because I think I'm going to need it!_


	17. Epilogue

DCI Keats leaned against his office doorframe and watched Sarah speak to the new arrival. He observed her guide the befuddled DI into her office and decided to give it a minute before he introduced himself.

He was beginning to get used to the conflicting voices in his head. Ever since her return something he had long since buried had been emerging, and as every day passed it was gaining strength. After that unfortunate business in the basement he had realised that this human part of him, 'James', was never going to let him take her. As much of a disappointment as that was, he had no choice but to accept it, lest the fight threaten to prematurely usurp him from his seat. Somewhere, in a private corner that the Devil kept well hidden, he had already accepted defeat. It wouldn't be for some time yet, but eventually James would grow strong enough to eradicate him permanently. It wasn't a surprise. It always happened eventually; the human soul reasserted itself, usually when the opposite sex was involved, somewhere. He recalled the last time, with Callahan, and the search they had undertaken for a new host. He had been happy with their choice, and he was sure he would be happy with the next one. Jenkins would be ideal, and the irony would be delicious but….never mind. In the meantime he would let the boy have his cosy evenings with her. Why not? It would give him time to recharge himself for the days ahead. For his search.

He wandered to Sarah's office and, through the glass, saw her clutching her new DI by his lapels.

"Listen to me, sunshine," she threatened. "I am your DCI and you will get your scrawny arse out there right now and do some work. Understood?"

_Gene Hunt School of Charm,_ he laughed inwardly as he swung open the door.

_Here we go, then, _he took a deep breath_. Wish me luck, because I think I'm going to need it._


End file.
